


Alterations

by moth2fic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changes brought about by ancient technology can bring changes to the heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alterations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonlettuce](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Moonlettuce).



> This was one of my contributions to a 'goody bag' of fics, art etc. for the wonderful organisers of Connotations. It was presented to the recipient at the con in October 2007 but was not 'published' on my journal till the following spring.
> 
> Thanks to MistressKat for the beta.
> 
> Warning: crack!fic

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Rodney was inclined to be irritated when the ancient technology saw fit to change his colleagues and friends arbitrarily into things other than what they were and, in Rodney’s opinion, should remain. He had words with John Sheppard about it, implying that someone with such an intimate connection with the city should be able to control its wilder extravagances. John disabused him of this notion quite sharply. He put in a formal complaint with the correct wording and signed it in triplicate but Elizabeth dismissed his efforts as ‘trouble-making’. He tried to discuss the matter with Zelenka, man to man, and got a mouthful of Czech that sent him scrabbling for coffee and silence.

 

It was a nuisance when the lab was full of baby chicks, cheeping and fluffing their way around delicate instruments. Nothing was ever broken so far as he could tell, and the work seemed to get done, but the noise was distracting. A group of giraffes in the canteen set his nerves on edge, leaning nonchalantly over his shoulder and taking the best bits from his plate with their prehensile lips. When the weekly meetings in Elizabeth’s office had been attended at various times by a spectrum of the animal kingdom that included bats (whose droppings were uncontrolled and particularly offensive), toads (whose propensity to leap unexpectedly was unsettling), and cats (who occasionally curled on Rodney’s lap and disconcerted him greatly), Rodney felt that enough was enough. He loved cats in their rightful place, which wasn’t at meetings; he was reluctant to stroke the fur of someone who might turn back into an unco-operative colleague the next day; he missed his own cat and thought it unfair that he should be surrounded by not-quite-cats or were-cats or whatever they were.

 

When he stormed into Elizabeth’s office only to be confronted by a badger that seemed to have come straight from the pages of The Wind In The Willows, using its claws to grasp and manipulate Elizabeth’s favourite pen, well, enough was more than enough. The complaint died on his lips, which showed just how badly he was affected, and he mumbled something probably obscene before retreating to his own room. Once there, he sulked. It took the combined efforts of Teyla, Ford and Sheppard to extricate him with promises of chocolate cake, coffee and a really difficult Sudoku book. Teyla had already spent time on the Sudoku puzzles and abandoned them; Ford had done his best to erase Teyla’s efforts; Sheppard had written Rodney’s name on the front in bright green gel pen. The coffee and cake were delicious. Rodney consented to be coaxed back to work.

 

Next morning, Zelenka seemed to be a koala. Quite apart from the difficulty of finding eucalyptus leaves, the fact that he fell asleep every few minutes held their work up considerably and Rodney was exasperated when, on trying to wake his somnolent co-worker, he was raked with strong claws. He took himself and his fairly deep scratches to Dr. Beckett for ointment and a discussion on the necessity for a tetanus jab. Carson was his normal self and seemed to commiserate over the changes. He pointed out that most people changed back eventually but to Rodney, this just made matters worse. It meant you had to be careful about the way you treated the animals.

 

“They’re not exactly animals,” the doctor said. “Not dumb beasts, anyway. They still function as human beings in many ways.”

 

“I know that. That’s at least part of the problem.” Rodney sounded morose and stressed but as this was normal for Rodney, Carson refrained from prescribing anti-depressants and simply treated the claw marks. As he did so, he noticed that Rodney’s arms were perhaps hairier than they should be, but wisely did not comment.

 

*****

 

In the morning, Rodney was at first unable to understand why his bed was so uncomfortable. He rolled out of it with difficulty and stumbled to the bathroom cubicle where his gaze took in his new appearance. An alpaca is an animal about the size of a very large dog but with a longer neck and a covering of crimped wool. Rodney’s coat was black and his ears stood up at a jaunty angle. His eyes belied the message of the ears; they were bloodshot and filled with extreme dismay. In his mind, he swore. In the confines of his shower stall he merely hummed, the hum echoing gently from the smooth walls.

 

There didn’t seem to be any way of getting dressed and he had no idea what had happened to his pyjamas. Brushing his teeth proved to be beyond him. He felt hot, bothered and unhappy. And hungry.

 

He headed for the canteen and bared his teeth at everyone he met on the way. His split upper lip and soft nose made this fairly easy and people took one look and ignored him. That suited Rodney and he trotted into the canteen in search of food. There was no grass; that was the first disappointment. He did feel that if people kept changing into animals and back again the least that could be done was to cater for all eating habits. However, a bowl of spinach, another of drinking chocolate and a few lettuce leaves later, he felt better. Not well, but better. He trotted off again, and entered the laboratory.

 

Split hooves turned out to be totally unsuitable for manipulating instruments and although he managed to make some notes by holding a pen in his mouth, it was a slow process, not helped by the koala’s propensity for hugging his neck for all the world as if he were a tree.

 

It was a sad, sorry-for-itself alpaca that entered the meeting room. John Sheppard was the only one who didn’t laugh. Instead, he took the miserable animal back to his own room and worked out that what Rodney really needed more than anything was shearing. His coat was too thick and the resultant body heat was overwhelming. Rodney felt mortified as John set to work with a razor, but he knew something would have to be done.

 

As John worked, Rodney blushed inside, in his normal Rodney mind. John’s hands felt wonderful as they covered every centimetre of his body, stroking, shearing and brushing away clinging curls of fleece. Rodney hoped desperately that his feelings would not make themselves physically obvious and was relieved when the entire operation finished without anything untoward occurring. He had no idea how to thank John, other than rubbing his head against his friend’s shoulder and vowing mentally to find some way of rewarding him for his patience and care when the episode was over. John ruffled the curls he had left unshorn above Rodney’s eyes, and then stroked the sensitive nose.

 

“Back to work!” he told the alpaca, giving it a slight slap on the rump as it left his room. Then he collected the fleece. There wasn’t enough to be worth spinning and weaving but perhaps he could use it to fill a cushion. It was soft and springy, and smelled of Rodney.

 

Rodney had a new spring in his cameloid step. This was partly due to his decreased temperature and partly to his pleasure at John’s ministrations. At any rate, he was able to work out a system for making notes that could be understood by lab minions. Or at least, that he thought should be understood. As this was normal for Rodney, nobody was in the least surprised and most of the minions simply carried on as usual.

 

*****

 

It lasted a week, at the end of which Rodney was desperate for a cup, rather than a bowl, of coffee, a hard slab of chocolate to bite, and words to tell his colleagues exactly what he thought of them. When he woke as uncomfortable on the floor as he had been in his bed the previous week, these were the first thoughts to cross his mind.

 

So he was surprised when his first footsteps as a fully functioning human, in a scientist’s coveralls and shoes that neither slipped nor scrabbled on the shiny floors, led him to Sheppard’s door.

 

He stammered his thanks, awkwardly, and couldn’t find any way to say that, actually, he liked having his head stroked. His haircut had changed with him and he boasted a smart new crew cut, courtesy of Sheppard, barber extraordinaire. He then bolted, before he could disgrace himself by rubbing up against John’s shoulder.

 

He hoped they would see each other later, in the corridors or Elizabeth’s meeting room, and get back into the normal routine of their relationship, whatever that was. But as he headed for dinner that evening he found himself joined by an Afghan Hound, its long silky hair floating around it like a caramel halo as they entered the canteen.

 

*****

 

It was Rodney’s turn to do the grooming, a task made both difficult and important by Sheppard’s propensity for rushing off to explore whatever world they were visiting, careless of swamps, brambles and local wildlife. Rodney spent hours removing insects and thorns from the fine tangled stomach hair. John lay patiently and only snapped if an especially hard tug brought tears to his eloquent dark eyes.

 

Sheppard’s flying ability was unimpaired and it amused the team to watch him poised at the controls, tongue lolling and tail waving in obvious pleasure at the joys of flight. Teyla tended to be motherly and Ford was inclined to use nicknames like Rover but Rodney simply treated the hound as Sheppard and found himself constantly shadowed by his grateful friend.

 

*****

 

When John was himself again they both sensed an awkwardness and it was some days before they met to watch a hockey match in Rodney’s room, opening cans of beer in the hope that alcohol might return their previous careless companionship.

 

They had reckoned without the loosening of inhibitions, caused by the demon drink. John ruffled Rodney’s hair (which was beginning to grow again) and Rodney stroked John’s shoulder. They turned and looked at each other in dawning wonder.

 

Rodney’s bed was just the right size for two human beings who wanted to be very close, and it was interesting to explore bodies that had previously been covered in fleece or hair. Best of all was the ability to speak, though Rodney made a happy humming noise when John stroked just the right spot, and John growled a contented growl before they fell asleep.

 

 

 

 


End file.
